


When the Mask Falls

by smallestsenpai



Category: SPY x FAMILY (Manga)
Genre: 'For the mission' but make it hurt, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Bad Ending, Bad ending Au, F/M, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Partner Betrayal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28174521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallestsenpai/pseuds/smallestsenpai
Summary: It wasn’t supposed to be simple. It never was.That didn’t make it any easier, however, when she found herself face-to-face with the last person she’d ever expected.
Relationships: Loid Forger | Twilight/Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess
Comments: 9
Kudos: 38
Collections: SxF Gift Exchange 2020





	When the Mask Falls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [espers770](https://archiveofourown.org/users/espers770/gifts).



> Merry Christmas Espers! Thank you for always providing this fandom with lovely content, even if it does hurt us a bit sometimes :') Your fics always manage to hurt so good (and spawn some quality memes!), and I'm obsessed with your edits; yes, even the shitposts xD You're like the queen of writing angst, but I hope my attempts at writing angst are to your liking! Consider this an...appetizer of sorts for your gift :') You woke up and chose violence (character death prompt), so I tried my best. Ending left intentionally opening because who knows what'd happen next? 👀 Hope you enjoy it!

It wasn’t supposed to be simple. It never was.

Some were easier than others, of course. They knew their time had come. They didn’t put up a fight. They met their end with whatever shred of dignity they had left. If they had any left.

Others fought. Fought hard. Fought _dirty_. Fought with whatever means were available to them. Whether it be guns or knives or poisons it never bothered her; at the end of the day they were all useless. Toys meant to comfort them in their final moments and nothing more.

It never mattered to her whether they choose to struggle and fight or accept defeat. They would meet their end one way or another. She would make sure of it.

So when the phone rang that evening, she thought nothing of it.

_“Hello, dear.”_

The disembodied voice she’d grown accustomed to. A sickeningly sweet, comforting voice, hiding its true intentions behind a gentle façade.

A time.

A location.

A target.

_“You know what to do.”_

Though the instructions changed, the end goal never did.

Neutralize the threat. Eliminate the target. Clean up the mess.

It wasn’t supposed to be simple. It never was, and she knew this.

That didn’t make it any easier, however, when she found herself face-to-face with the last person she’d ever expected.

“Loid?” Her voice echoes throughout the empty expanse of the warehouse.

Her target: Twilight. Westalian Intelligence. Man of a Thousand Faces. A ghost. An urban legend.

The man before her is none of those. At least, she thought so at one point.

He turns around slowly. Whether he is surprised to see her or not she cannot tell.

“Hello, Yor.” He greets her with a warm smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, watching him intently. There has to be a reason for his appearance in such a strange location. There _must_ be, but something tells her she already knows. She scans his face for a sign, something, _anything_ , that tells her she’s wrong. That it’s not what she thinks it is. It could be the worst lie in the world, but she’d believe it in a heartbeat if it came from him.

“You know why.”

A singular sentence echoes throughout the warehouse, bouncing off the walls and reverberating within her skull, growing louder and louder with each passing second.

She can’t believe it.

She _refuses_ to believe it.

But in hindsight, it makes sense. _Too_ much sense. The odd circumstances surrounding him. The mysterious first wife, at times nothing more than a passing thought. Concerns about outward appearances, maintaining appearances at all times. The late hours at work, odd hours at work, that don’t add up. The mysterious injuries with unknown origins. Pieces of a puzzle scattered around her that she’d never been able to make sense of suddenly fall into place right before her very eyes.

“Why?”

A thousand questions swirl inside her, but it’s all she can muster.

“For peace.” He responds simply.

“For _peace?”_ She repeats incredulously, “What about Anya?”

She thinks about the young girl, no doubt sitting at home peacefully, eyes glued to the television as _Spy Wars_ rolls its latest episode. Bond sits close by, head resting by her side, tail wagging periodically when she turns to him to explain the sequence of events unfolding on screen. Frankie sits close by, keeping the chaos to a minimum to avoid rousing the attention of nosy neighbors. Though, the knowledge that Frankie is watching her doesn’t make her feel any better about Anya’s safety anymore.

“Her safety’s ensured.” He answers, “WISE will care for her after the mission concludes.”

“You’re abandoning her.” She clarifies. She thinks of Anya’s vibrant smile. The way she clings to him. The way she vibrates in place with excitement when she can’t wait to tell him something. The way she stares at him with admiration, with reassurance that she’s safe, that she’s _loved_.

She watches him shift in place, but otherwise his expression remains unreadable.

“It’ll be better for her in the long run if we go our separate ways.” He reasons.

“She’s a _child_ ,” Yor manages to reply through clenched teeth, “she won’t understand.”

She thinks of Yuri. The sleepless nights that filled their childhood. Nights spent crying to the point of exhaustion, crying out for parents that would never return, no matter how hard he begged. No matter how hard _she_ begged.

“What about-”

_What about us?_

Passing glances. Stolen glances. Hands brushing against one another. Warm smiles. Whispered conversations in the dead of night. Heartfelt promises. It had all felt so real, _too_ real.

What did she expect?

It was all fake, it always had been. She knew it’d have to end eventually; they couldn’t continue on like this forever. She knew it’d all come to an end eventually. But she couldn't have imagined it’d end like this.

Her fists clench tightly, nails dangerously close to breaking the skin of her palms had it not been for her gloves. Her body tenses, muscles screaming in unison. Though the room is silent, the blood roaring in her ears is anything but.

“You lied.” She manages to say, her voice borderline unrecognizable, tears prickling the corner of her eyes.

About Anya.

About his wife.

About himself.

About them.

“It was for the mission.” He states, “To protect the peace between Westalis and Ostania I-”

“What fragile _peace_ hinges on the stability of a _fake marriage?_ _”_ She shouts much louder than she had anticipated, the words resonating against the concrete walls.

He doesn’t respond. He _can’t_ respond, because he’s just as frustrated as she is. What fragile peace _does_ hinge on the stability of a fake marriage? On the ability of a child to academically perform at levels too advanced for her age? On her ability to befriend the child of a politician? Each question is more absurd than the last, and even with years of experience under his belt, there’s no satisfactory answer he can give her.

“One worth protecting.”

Peace. Something worth protecting. Something worth fighting for. Something worth bloodying your hands for. Something worth _killing_ for. That’s what he’d always told himself at least. Smaller transgressions to ensure peace in the grand scheme of things. But those transgressions come with a price, and he knew he’d have to pay sooner or later.

“I know the feeling.” She replies.

Twilight meets her gaze, the usually gentle expression she wears gone without a trace from her face. Her gaze cuts through him easily, but rather than anger he finds understanding. It's not the gaze of a city hall clerk, but of someone who’s done and witnessed unspeakable things in the name of peace. In the name of protecting peace. It’s the gaze of someone who understands the gravity of war and the necessity of peace on a personal level. It’s the gaze of someone who understands him. 

Not Loid, not Twilight, but _him_.

“Funny,” He remarks, “we’re a lot more alike than I thought.”

She doesn’t respond.

“I’m not going to fight you, Yor.” He says softly. He’d known from the minute he accepted this mission that it’d be his downfall. He was compromised, and he knew it. He’d never imagined it’d end like this. Perhaps in a blaze of glory with a detonation or alone a smoldering flame, but not like this. Never like this.

And yet, he couldn’t think of a more fitting ending.

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, Twilight genuinely smiles.

“Do what you need to do.”

_“You know what to do.”_

Her grip tightens on the blades as she starts towards him.

“If only we’d met under different circumstances.”

He means it.

“Don’t give me that.” Her voice wavers, but nonetheless she advances towards him.

Slow steps give way to a steady sprint.

_Don’t give me hope._

Something wet runs down her cheek. She chooses not to focus on it. It’ll only make things harder.

He closes his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Yor.”

He means it.


End file.
